


expected

by kalypsobean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 15:53:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6664870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalypsobean/pseuds/kalypsobean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean dreams of Hell long before he ever goes there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	expected

**Author's Note:**

> for a prompt at [comment_fic](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/714210.html?thread=94330850#t94330850) by cyanidesympathy: _Supernatural, Gen. Preseries. Dean dreams of Hell._

He's never had to wonder what it's like, where he's going to end up. He knows, as if he's always known.

 _Angels aren't real_ , he says to himself, every time he wakes up with his mother's words a whisper in his ear. 

 

This is real: the reason he doesn't sleep more than a few hours, the reason he knows every bar open past midnight in every town large enough to have a nightlife. It's the reason he loses himself in lights and loud music and women who charge more than he can hustle, where there's too much noise for him to hear the screams and it's easy enough to wash away the acrid aftertaste of sulfur with another shot. 

He's barely sleeping enough to survive.

 

He wakes up, the sweat already dry on his skin, and he checks himself over in the dim light from neon signs and streetlights that makes it through the window. _Can't wake Dad, not for this,_ he tells himself, even as he traces unblemished skin where it was only just split in two, his body breaking and reforming under a blade both sharp and curved, designed especially for him. 

He changes, covering the bruises with layers so he can't look down and remember that they're supposed to be there, blossoming black and green over his wrists, where he was tied down. 

He leaves, as quietly as he can, because he doesn't want to talk about it and see his father's eyes narrow; his father would say he can't handle it, and this is the only thing Dean has. He kills monsters by day and by night, and in between he buries himself in excesses that echo through his body, so he can forget that he knows where they're going.

 

He never manages to forget that they're expecting him, there.


End file.
